


reclaim

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Body Modification, Body Worship, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Ghoul Sex, Introspection, Kagune Sex, M/M, Multi, Mutilation, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: rəˈklāmverbretrieve or recover (something previously lost, given, or paid); obtain the return ofnounthe action or process of reclaiming or being reclaimed





	reclaim

**Author's Note:**

> A Tokyo Ghoul AU loosely based on canon and based on Juuzou Suzuya saying that he would become a ghoul if there was ever peace in their world. In which Juuzou becomes a ghoul, has a strange relationship with Uta and Yomo, and takes back the body that has never really belonged to him anyway.

The surgery might have been perfected to a near art form but Suzuya Juuzou has no intention of stealing organs from an unwilling ghoul to complete the transformation. He would have asked Kaneki if he thought about it; Kaneki would have given him what he needed to go through with the surgery without asking twice about it. No one much asked Juuzou about the modifications he made to his body and seemed content to let him do as he wanted. Besides, he had said long ago that he would become a ghoul if he had the chance to do so.

He has the chance now. To change his body once more, something more permanent than the thread in his skin, something he cannot turn back. Something he wants and craves and nearly demands if only to stake a claim on his own body once again.

He should have been more careful when it came down to it, though. Tracking down a surgeon with the abilities had no doubt tipped others off to his goal, and he can only imagine how the other ghouls would feel about such a thing considering he had once been one of the best investigators and one of the most deadly. So when his bedroom window is raised and a familiar slender form appears on his sill, he isn’t surprised, only relieved he does not have to fight.

Juuzou sits up in bed, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were looking for kakuhou.” Uta cocks his head at him, beautiful red eyes flashing in the shadows of the room, the moonlight framing him like some sort of demonic halo. “You could find worse than mine and at least I’m offering free of charge.”

Juuzou, back braced against his headboard, fingers the stitching beneath his eye. “Why?”

“Because you’re interesting, and because I’d rather have you on our side than theirs if things were to go in a poor direction again.” Uta dangles one foot toward the floor, keeping the other neatly folded against his narrow chest. “What do you say?”

“I could find worse,” Juuzou echoes. Uta smiles at him and slips into the room.

* * *

Yomo finds him on the way back to his shop and catches him when he stumbles forward and almost falls; he could have sensed the aura of hunger from streets away if he had tried. One arm catches Uta around the waist and the other braces itself in the small of his back; he can feel blood soaking through the fabric and his eyes narrow.

There has been relative peace, so who would have attacked Uta? 

“What happened to you?” Yomo picks Uta up and holds him against his chest, careful of his back as he carries him the rest of the way into his shop. He tenses when he feels Uta breathing against his throat, heavy and hot. “Uta—”

“Hungry. You should go.” Uta tries to struggle free of his embrace, but Yomo refuses to let him down. Instead, he carries Uta through the shop to his private quarters at the back and sets him down on the bed. His skin still tingles where Uta’s lips had been.

The source of the blood is a wound carved into his back and when Yomo tentatively touches the skin there, it takes him only seconds to realize what has happened. “Did you consent to this?”

“I did. It would be better to have as many allies as we can amass, and I can survive the loss of a single kakuhou. It’ll be replaced.” Uta winces as Yomo checks the wound, the clean surgical lines in his skin, the neatness of the wound. “Would you mind bandaging it for me?”

If the circumstances had been different, Yomo would have laughed at the request. Now, though, he gathers the medical supplies from Uta’s bathroom cabinet and has him lie on his stomach. The wound is too deep for mere bandaging but Uta’s tolerance for pain is unnaturally high and he makes no movements to suggest disturbance when Yomo resorts to stitching his skin together. He merely remains still, head pillowed on his arms.

“I’ll need food when you’re done,” he murmurs.

Yomo smoothes a hand down his spine. “You can take from me. Just this once.”

“So unnaturally kind of you.” Uta’s eyes are heavily lidded and Yomo can tell how tired he is, how much this took out of him. He brushes his fingers up and down Uta’s spine as he tends to him, wiping away blood, bandaging the stitches to keep them from being disturbed.

When Uta sits up, Yomo pulls him into his lap, rips open the front of his shirt and twists his head to the side so that Uta knows where he can bite. Teeth sink into his shoulder a moment later, through skin and blood and scraping against bone when Uta bites. Blood rolls down his shoulder slow and slick and hot, but Uta quickly licks it away. When he looks at Yomo, his mouth is smeared red, lipstick after a particularly rough kiss.

“Who was it?” Yomo asks him.

Uta licks his lips. “Suzuya Juuzou.”

* * *

Juuzou finds the shop days after the surgery when he can walk again, when his center of balance is not so thrown off by the change in his cells and in his body that he can use his senses to track Uta’s scent. He knows the rough location of the shop and allows his nose to do the rest; he had eaten before coming here, not wanting to be a burden on Uta. The ghoul had already given him more than enough, after all.

Uta is settled in front of a sewing machine when Juuzou walks into the shop; he looks up at the sound of Juuzou’s footsteps, no surprise coloring his expression when he finds out who his guest is.

“I have need of you once more.” Juuzou flashes a smile at him and Uta cocks his head, a few black strands falling into his eyes. “For something simpler than this time. I don’t need a part of your body. I just want to pay you to make me a mask.”

Uta clicks his tongue and stands; Juuzou remembers the signs of weakness in his body after he had woken up from the surgery, his body not quite healed from the loss of one of his kakuhou just yet. It would heal, with time, and another one would grow in its place, but it had been an interesting sight to see one of the stronger ghouls he had met crippled from the pain. Now, though, there is no trace of that; Uta moves with the same inhuman grace as he always does, coming to stand in front of Juuzou, glimmering crimson eyes studying his face.

“A mask.” Uta smiles. “That is far easier for me to give you. Any allergies I need to know about? I would think not; you’ve never shown any aversion to any materials that I’ve seen.”

Juuzou shakes his head. “None. Your work precedes you, you know. No one makes more memorable masks than you do.”

“And you’ll want to be remembered.” Uta directs him to a chair and the moment Juuzou sits, Uta’s hands are on his face. The close contact would have been cause for alarm once, when they had been enemies intent on killing one another rather than comrades.

Nimble fingers trace the lines and contours of his face and Juuzou closes his eyes, almost pleased by the gentleness of the contact. There had been little room for any kind of softness in his life; he had been thrown to the wolves from an early age and had carved a life out of harshness and pain until he felt nothing at all. He chalks this up to his new sense of touch. Until his body adjusts to it, he will have these strange and uncertain sensations.

The hands change position in time with Uta’s footsteps, no longer behind him, but in front of him, curious fingers lingering over the stitches in his skin. “You’ll want a mask that accentuates these. I should add red stitching into the mask. Where would you like it?”

Juuzou opens his eyes, almost startled at the closeness of Uta’s face, those familiar eyes inches away from his face. “You smell nice up close.”

“I would expect that from you.” Uta blinks at him, long tangled black lashes fluttering softly with the movement. “Don’t think about eating me. I won’t give you a mask then.”

The closeness of his face prompts Juuzou to lean forward; he sees the flash of surprise in Uta’s eyes just before their lips brush, a barely-there touch that almost feels like nothing at all. He leans back a second later, watching Uta consider before he straightens up, quick fingers smoothing Juuzou’s hair back out of his eyes.

“I think I know what to make for you,” he says.

* * *

The invitation comes in the sound of Yomo landing on the roof above him, wings visible for only a flash of a moment before he settles on the edge of the rooftop. Uta scales the bricks with ease, not needing to rely on his kagune to scale the wall. The moonlight that spills down from the clear sky gives him more than enough light to get to where he needs to go; he pulls himself up a minute or two later, perching himself only a foot or so away from Yomo.

“What is he to you?” Yomo’s voice is carefully blank but tense around the edges and Uta cocks his head at the sound of it, turning so he can see the familiar profile he knows so well. “Suzuya. He was in your shop yesterday. Everyone in the ward seems intent on keeping an eye on him.”

Uta hums, curling a hand beneath his chin. “I can’t say I blame them. Would you? It wasn’t too long ago that he was killing our kind just because it was his job to do so.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re avoiding the question.” Yomo’s head twists to face him, his eyes like steel in the moonlight. “What is Suzuya to you?”

“That’s a very complicated question.” Uta’s fingers rub over his chin, up over his lips almost enough to muffle the sound of his voice. Yomo sighs at him and turns away; Uta inches closer to him, the heels of his shoes skidding against the brick wall they perch upon as he does so. “Why does it matter so much to you to have an answer?”

Yomo says nothing, keeps turned and twisted away from him, but Uta can see the pulse in his throat picking up in intensity and speed. His eyes are still his own; his kakugan are not activated and his kagune is nowhere to be seen, and yet Uta can sense the waves of hostility rolling off of him just the same. Even when all of the pieces of their little world seem intent on falling into place, there are always those that need to be coaxed, cut just off from perfect.

Now, Uta coaxes the final piece into place. He scoots closer until their thighs press together, until he can wrap both of his arms around one of Yomo’s, tugging it insistently away from his side. One kagune wraps around his waist and Yomo sighs at him but softens, winding his fingers with Uta, and Uta drops his head onto Yomo’s shoulder in answer.

He hears the shift of fabric and the slight crackle in the air before Yomo curls a wing around his back, the aura making the fine hairs all over his body lift from static.

“What are you to me?” Uta asks him, and Yomo sighs at him again. “Stop worrying about the finer details. If you meant so little to me, I would have never come tonight.”

Yomo’s cheek touches the top of his head. “Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.”

* * *

Juuzou likes to hunt, as it turns out. Halfway through a meal he looks up at the sound of something in the air, electricity that makes his hair staticky. His eyes pick out the familiar form of Yomo Renji in the darkness just fine and he licks at the blood on his lips, rocking back on his heels just a little to offer the ghoul a smile. With his kakugan activated and his beautiful wing-like kagune flared behind his back, he looks like a demon.

The sight makes Juuzou’s grin spread wider. “Good evening, Yomo. Care for a bite?”

“Are you formally inviting me to join you in a meal?” Yomo’s eyes narrow just slightly at him and Juuzou nods once, offering a blood-streaked hand to him. “Answer a question of mine first.”

“Fair. What question?” Juuzou can guess, but being polite seems the best road to take when someone is about to ask you why their significant other gave you an organ.

“Why Uta, Suzuya?” Yomo sits down next to him on the pavement and Juuzou licks a bit of blood off of his fingers. “The two of you… Are admittedly similar in some ways but the last time the two of you interacted, you were attempting to kill him. I don’t understand.”

Juuzou clicks his tongue. “Do you really think I understand him? But he offered and I would rather take a kakuhou willingly, and from a ghoul strong enough to take the strain, rather than from someone who does not agree and cannot survive it.”

“I could smell you on him when I spoke to him last,” Yomo says.

“I imagine so.” Juuzou remembers the kiss, and the ones that came after, when Uta had insisted he had to work only to let himself be distracted again and again. “Are you jealous?”

Yomo’s gaze is sharp. “Should I be?”

“I have no desire to take him from you.” Juuzou abandons his meal for now, framing Yomo’s face in bloody hands, thinking that he can lick the red stains away from his skin later on. “What fun would that be? I know the two of you had a rocky start but I know better than to take what is not mine to take. Now, as for sharing… That could be arranged.”

He reaches past Yomo’s shoulder to touch his kagune, to feel the electricity run up his fingertips, to trace the rough shapes and patterns of Yomo’s kagune. Ukaku are so beautiful.

Yomo shudders under the attention and Juuzou is close enough to steal a kiss, the scruff of his face sharp against Juuzou’s own, much different than Uta’s own softer skin. Yomo makes a noise but doesn’t move to pull away, Juuzou presses the taste of blood and flesh into his mouth, swallows both the surprised moan and predatory growl before Yomo digs into the meal that Juuzou has offered to share with him.

Sharing can be arranged, and in many different ways.

* * *

“These are interesting.” Juuzou runs the tips of his fingers over the scars on Uta’s chest, the ones beneath his pecs, paler still against his already pale skin.

Uta hums and arches up into his touch, shameless, his crimson eyes almost closed. “Body modifications, something I think you understand. This body belongs to me and that means adapting it in any way I can to make it fit my needs.”

“I understand perfectly. You’re beautiful.” Juuzou’s breathing is heavy; his fingers drift down Uta’s belly, nails leaving thin red lines on his perfect skin, such a contrast to the black ink of his tattoos.

When the offer had been made, Uta had stripped shamelessly on the way to the bedroom and stretched himself out on the sheets, letting Juuzou examine each and every inch of him. The two of them are not so different, in this respect; Uta has had more time and more practice but the modifications speak of a language that Juuzou knows well. He can smell Uta’s arousal at this proximity and it makes his stomach clench with need.

“You don’t have to watch, Yomo.” Juuzou drags his tongue across his lips and turns to look at the other ghoul over his shoulder, activating his kakugan, an aesthetic he knows that Uta appreciates. “You can join. I’ve already talked to you about this.”

He and Uta might have been better suited for this; Yomo is slower on the uptake but joins them on the bed just the same, fingers tugging his shirt up and over his head. He has scars, too, ones from battle, ones that prove that his fighting prowess is as he says it is, and Juuzou reaches out to touch those, too. There is history and texture here, and he likes to explore.

“What happened to sharing?” Uta sits up and reaches for Juuzou, pulling at the neck of his shirt. “Take this off. Take all of this off. You get to see us, so it’s only fair.”

For all his confidence, Juuzou is slower when it comes to this. Peeling off the layers of his clothing feels like peeling away parts of his armor and taking off his shirt alone takes what feels like impossible effort. The pants take longer, and his hands hesitate on the waistband of his underwear, fingers digging into the fabric without being able to remove it.

Yomo’s hand is warm on his shoulder. “You don’t have to hide from us.”

“I learned a lot about kagune after the surgery.” Juuzou’s throat wants to close up rather than speak about this, but he soldiers through it just the same, telling himself that he has to get through this. The goal had always been this, after all. “That they can replace body parts. I like my prosthetic. It’s useful to me. But another part of my body…”

The mutilation had been painful. It had forever altered his body in more ways than one. Juuzou’s appearance confuses many of the people who see him, and he knows this, and more than once he has used it to his advantage. The loss of hormones his body should have had through puberty had taken away the natural progression of change his body was meant to go through; he had no idea what his face was supposed to look like, only what it now was. But time had passed, and he had grown used to it.

There were some things that he refused to grow used to, though. This body belongs to him. Modifications had been his weapon to take back what belonged to him, and this is just an extension of that modification, is it not?

Yomo’s hands cover his own, larger and more rugged. “We understand what you mean. Will you let us see now, Juuzou?”

The sound of his first name rolling off of Yomo’s tongue makes Juuzou smile despite everything else; he had finally come around, it seemed. “Yeah. Let me do it.”

Kagune were meant to be claws, to be weapons; his body had been taken from him by someone who had never loved him and Juuzou’s life had been an effort to take it back through blood and sweat and effort. If his kagune is meant to be his claws, to be the weapon of a predator best suited for preying on humanity, then Juuzou would use it to do whatever he wanted to do with it. And that means completing the body he wants for his own.

He discards the underwear and leans back on the bed, feeling pinned in place by Yomo’s eyes, but Uta’s curious gaze. “There. Now we’re all on equal footing.”

Yomo’s hands are on his body a moment later, hands smoothing down his sides, the rough touch of his palms sending a shiver down Juuzou’s side. “You are truly beautiful,” he murmurs, and the emotion in his voice makes Juuzou’s throat tight. “Don’t shy away from us so much. You really are gorgeous.”

The words make Juuzou’s face flush and his chest hurt even as he feels his muscles soften and the tension ease out of his body. Yomo climbs on top of him, one hand braced beside his head, their foreheads bumping together before Yomo kisses him slow and smooth and easy. It isn’t like their first awkward kiss, full of blood and gore and hunger and uncertainty, and Juuzou drinks it in eagerly, threading his fingers through Yomo’s silver hair.

“Don’t mind me.” Uta is suddenly in his ear, arms curling around his shoulders and squeezing as he presses himself against Juuzou’s hip, almost grinding against him. “That’s a very unique body modification. It’s nice.”

Yomo chuckles softly, his lips tracing a path from Juuzou’s lips to his throat, lips and teeth nipping at the skin there. “He’s unreal, isn’t he, Uta? Look how beautiful he is.”

Uta’s fingers curl beneath Juuzou’s chin, turning his head to steal a kiss of his own. “He is.”

Yomo’s hands and mouth miss no part of his body while Uta keeps him occupied with kisses that turn rough, Juuzou nipping at his tongue and lips until his mouth is red and swollen, bruised from the force of it. It’s enough to make him miss just where Yomo’s mouth has gotten until he feels his tongue drag over the sensitive flesh of his kagune before he takes it into his mouth. Juuzou fists a hand in his hair, keeping him there while Uta grinds wet and needy against his hip.

“What do you want?” he asks, his breathing short and labored, leg wrapped around Juuzou’s own to give him better leverage. “How do you want it?”

Yomo lets go of him with a wet pop and Juuzou looks down at him, finds his lips just as swollen and wet as Uta’s own. “You can have anything you want from us.”

Juuzou’s head spins even as he reaches down, pressing his fingers to where Uta is swollen and wet; two slip inside of him easily and Uta moans, his head falling back. “Then let me fuck you. Let me between the two of you. That’s what I want.”

There’s no hesitation in the way they shuffle their bodies around, Uta eagerly wrapping his legs around Juuzou while Yomo blankets Juuzou’s back with his chest, breath hot on the back of his neck. The pressure and the heat makes it almost impossible to focus, Uta’s low moans and Yomo’s breathy sighs a beautiful litany that Juuzou adds his own wheezing cries to. But there’s no pause in their movements, no uncertain touches, no hands flinching away from his body no matter where they land. Yomo wraps a hand around his kagune, guides it into Uta who tightens his legs around Juuzou’s waist to pull him in deeper, and there’s no disgust there.

For the first time in a long time, Juuzou finally feels  _ right. _


End file.
